


The Marble Keyblade

by Moon Faery (tsukinofaerii)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Ghosts, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:25:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukinofaerii/pseuds/Moon%20Faery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>History and hearts can go astray, and when they do terrible things can happen. Legends and ghost stories keep Paopu Island sacrosanct, but a young boy named Riku finds himself drawn to it, and into something may not ever let him go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Marble Keyblade

"Let me go instead," Sora begged, keeping his arms wrapped tight around Riku. Waves splashed gently up the shore, making the moonlight dance until the shadows under the bridge devoured it. Overhead, the paopu tree cast its own shade, a gentler type that didn't destroy the light so much as soften it. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Please."

The summer wind toyed with Riku's hair and the hood of his coat. He was dressed in his black organization uniform, blindfold dangling from his fingers as he nuzzled Sora's hair. "I know the Darkness. I'm the best choice, and someone has to guard here."

"Something's going to go wrong," Sora insisted, lip poking out in a pout and eyes dark and colorless in the night. "I can feel it. You'll forget me again or— or worse! Don't leave me." The last was almost a sob as the smaller man buried his face in Riku's chest, tears trailing down his cheeks. "Don't leave me," he repeated, breath hitching.

Riku tipped his Sora's chin up, forcing him to meet his eyes. There was something desperate in Sora's expression that begged for reassurance. "I'll never forget you," he swore quietly, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. "One destiny, remember?"

"Then share a paopu with me." Desperation made Sora grip Riku's coat in clenched fists, holding him in place. "If it's really one destiny, share one with me."

"That's just an old story—" the objection began, but Sora used Riku's coat to shake him.

"If it's just a story, then it won't hurt anything," he insisted, voice tight with tears. "Please."

After only a moment's hesitation, Riku nodded.

Relief flooded Sora's face. Like a conjuror producing a rabbit, he pulled a small fruit out of a pocket that looked far too small for it. From another he produced a pocket knife.

Riku laughed, the sound carrying over the water and echoing back to them. "You planned this, didn't you?" he asked as Sora cut the fruit up.

Full lips pouted up at him. "Just eat the fruit," Sora grumbled, popping a bite in his own mouth and offering Riku the next.

"I intend to." Smiling, Riku leaned down to kiss him, getting his piece of paopu from the best place he could think of.

Pavement flew under Riku's feet as he ran down the center of Play Island Boulevard, colored with asymmetric stars and fanciful shapes that never existed outside of anyone's imagination. Overhead the sky was the endless blue of late autumn, such a deep color that he felt like he was taking a cold drink of water every time he glanced up. On his right the ocean reflected back the color, flashing golden across the wave tops as the sun dipped towards the horizon. The bells of the school were still ringing, announcing the release of its prisoners for the day. Behind him, two sets of sneakers crunched fallen leaves, kicking up flurries of bright orange and red as their owners strove to catch him.

"Wait up!" Roxas tripped over his too-large shoes, laughing as Axel caught his elbow and hauled him upright. The two tugged each other onward, getting in their own way more often than not.

Riku turned to laugh at them, jogging backward. Crisp air burned his lungs, making every breath dance on the edge of pain. The entire world felt fresh and new even as it faded away into a slow death in preparation for winter. Life beat under his skin, hot and thick in contrast to the thin air. He felt like he could do anything, take on any challenger. "Hurry up, you lazy bums!"

"We wouldn't have to if you'd stop running," Axel retorted, brushing his short-cropped hair out of his eyes. It was a red so bright it looked like it shouldn't occur in nature, but Roxas swore it was Axel's real color and Riku had never asked again. "You—look out!"

"What—" Riku turned around just in time for a low garbage can to bang into his knees. His arms wheeled desperately for balance, but his own momentum worked against him. He landed butt-first and kept rolling, eventually tumbling to a stop to stare up at the single cloud in the sky, his head spinning from the tumble.

"You okay, man?" Roxas peered down at him, eyes the exact same shade as the sky. Axel peeked over his shoulder, already tall for seventeen and still growing. Neither one made a move to help him up. "No cracked neck or anything?"

"I'm fine," Riku sighed, half-lying. His head felt light, like it might spin off at any moment. He focused on a crow as it flew overhead, using the dark smudge of it to steady his shaken thoughts. "Just help me up."

Reassured, his friends reached down to lift him up. Axel made a teasing swat at the dirt on his butt, earning the jealous growl from Roxas he'd undoubtedly been trying for. The couple tussled playfully, more best friends than boyfriends. Riku rolled his eyes at them and proceeded to inspect his white and black school uniform. The stains would come out, but he'd have to treat them individually, which could take forever and would earn a scolding from his mother if she caught it. Disgusted, he leaned against the low white fence that bordered the beach.

"Are you two done with the foreplay, or can we go already?"

"There's the grump we know and love," Axel exclaimed cheerfully, not even bothering to take his hands out of Roxas' pockets. He rested his chin on the top of Roxas' head, crushing the blond spikes. "We're already to Keybearer Memorial. What's the rush?"

"This is the rush." He indicated the deep red stains of claw mud, which looked like drying blood against the white of his pants. "If this isn't out by the time she gets home, Mom'll kill me."

"Borrow one of my old ones," the redhead offered generously, doing something with his hands that made Roxas squeak and swat at him. "I just out-grew another one, and my folks'll never miss it. As long as she sees it hanging in the hall, she'll never notice that you're cleaning a different one. I'll swing by home and you can hang it before we play blitzball." He glanced at his boyfriend nonchalantly.

"I'll go with him," Roxas piped up, "to make sure he doesn't get side tracked." He struggled to twist in Axel's arms, cheeks suspiciously red. Riku glared at them both, knowing that he wouldn't see either for at least an hour. Roxas had the decency to blush even more, but Axel just beamed back shamelessly.

"Fine," he sighed, knowing that the gesture was at least half an excuse to make out, but grateful he was getting a uniform loan out of it. Last time they had just vanished in the middle of history class, somehow managing to slip under the desk and out the door without anyone noticing, and had left the explaining to him. "Thanks. Just don't take too long this time."

"Deal! Come on, Eight." Roxas hooked Axel's collar and hauled off his very willing body, moving at least twice as fast as they had while chasing Riku. In only a handful of minutes they had rounded the bend and were out of sight.

Riku waited until they were gone before turning to follow the fence once more. _An hour,_ he estimated, thinking of how fast they'd run off and the blush on Roxas' cheeks. _Maybe two._ He grinned to himself. As small as the island was, they would need a creative excuse if they took too long. If it was good enough, he might even try it on his own parents.

Play Island was designed strangely. His grandfather said that it used to be a giant playground, before the Keyblade Wars. After the Wars there had been a flood of tourists and immigrants from other planets, prompting people to build a small community in the heart of the tiny island. Signs of what it had once been lingered, in the sad little half-rotten docks and in the web-laced hollow under the giant tree. Riku had been under there once, on a dare. He'd found two backpacks, still loaded with crumbling books and termite-eaten pencils. The walls had been covered in childish drawings, moments from someone's life that they'd felt the need to imprint on the world.

The cheerful little fence vanished at the bridge, replaced by a foreboding wrought iron masterpiece. Dead weeds wove through its bars, some climbing all the way to the top of the ornamental spikes. Riku let his fingers dance between the bars as he walked, snagging vines and brittle leaves to break off whenever he encountered them. The fence was meant to keep people from the tiny strip of beach best known as the Park, though the sign said Keybearer Memorial Island. There was nothing special about the tiny strip of beach, but what lay beyond the bridge was the focus of more than one stupid teenage joke. On the island just past the bridge was the legendary paopu tree, which somehow bore fruit year-round.

It had been there forever. The tree itself was so big that two men couldn't wrap their arms around it, the top so heavy that it drooped almost into the water. Riku had never been there, but he'd never been dared to try. Roxas was terrified of the spot, though he didn't know why, and that was enough to keep Axel quiet on the subject.

Just walking by the Island gave Riku chills, like a skeleton was dragging its bony fingers up his spine. Luckily, it was closed to the public, an edict enforced by the tall fence and stories whispered by candlelight on stormy nights.

Iron bars passed under his fingers like rib bones, one after another insmooth sequence until they brushed through the empty space of an open gate. Riku stumbled at the unexpected absence, reaching back to the previous bar for something familiar to touch. He stared at the lock, an overly decorated piece of black iron that had been cast in the shape of a heart. It hung open, dangling creakily in the breeze with little creaking noises. The gate had been kept open with its own latch, which someone had hooked between the bars of the fence.

Something roiled deep in Riku's stomach as he peered through the open gate, like frozen worms trying to burrow through him. Across the bridge, two figures were seated at the base of the tree by the statue of the Kingdom Key, the white hair of one reflecting back the deepening blue of late afternoon shadows. His feet moved without him, padding across the crumbling bridge towards the elderly couple. One of them looked up as his footsteps rang hollowly. She watched him with sharp lavender eyes, head covered by a black shawl, skin fine and stretched over the hollows of her cheeks. Her companion didn't move at all, his head bowed so his colorless bangs hid his eyes.

"Are you lost, grandmother?" Riku asked politely, pausing just on the edge of the bridge. The ice in his stomach was threatening to crawl down to his legs, rooting him in place on the bridge. "This place is supposed to be closed."

Delicate wrinkles folded in on each other as she smiled, a bitter twist of her lips that had little to do with joy. "We have permission and we're not lost, thank you."

The words slipped out before Riku could stop them. "Nobody has permission."

"Then I suppose we're Nobodies," she snapped, then softened at his stricken look. "Don't worry about it. Really. We're just visiting an old friend." Her thin hand patted the handle of the Key, caressing the pale gold marble. The statue was strange, constructed of tinted stone and without a visible base. It looked like someone had simply slammed it into the ground and left it.

A solemn wind blew Riku's hair into his eyes. He brushed it out of the way impatiently. He knew it would be less windy on the island, with the tree to break the breeze, but he was loath to even stand on what amounted to hallow ground for the majority of islanders. "You're visiting the Key?" he asked, feeling thick and slow under her gaze.

"An old friend," she repeated cryptically. "And we're done. Help me up, if you please." She held up an arm imperiously. Her friend still hadn't moved.

Riku glanced worriedly at the ground, but he'd been raised to be polite, and that included aiding old ladies. Careful, half wondering if Thundaga would crash out of the Heavens to strike him dead for the blasphemy, he inched down the rest of the dock until his sneakered foot rested firmly on the island soil.

Something did flash through him, a glow of frozen warmth that vanished like a snowflake under a light bulb. It rooted him to the ground and turned his knees to water. Something in his head echoed, like a leviathan rolling over so deep underground that the ripples never reached the surface.

_...it's you?_

In a stolen heartbeat, the moment was gone. The old woman hadn't noticed his pause at all, but was clearly amused by his reluctance. Riku shook the moment off, but not in time to escape the teasing comment, "Don't tell me believe the stories?" Her voice bubbled lightly, almost snickering. "That the Keybearer is buried here and his Keyblade marks the site?"

"Of course not! Only kids believe that stuff." Offended, Riku made himself cross the remaining distance with strong strides. He helped her to her feet gently, even though something about her annoyed him and made him sad at the same time. He put it down to the strangeness old people always caused. They were a constant reminder that life wasn't forever. It gave him the creeps.

She looked at him appraisingly, head tilted slightly. Now that he was close he could see how truly delicate she was. Her wrist felt hollow and brittle under his hand, the skin like tissue paper. Still, he could see the young girl she must have been once. The girl lingered in the stubborn tilt of her chin, and the lively tone as she responded, "You should. They're true."

"How would you know?"

"We knew him." Her smile softened as her eyes unfocused just a little. Riku had the feeling that she wasn't looking at anything in the world he knew. "His name was Sora, and he had the biggest heart I've ever known." With a blink she returned to the present, and the gentleness faded as she let go of his arm and brushed off her long dress. The pink flowers printed on it seemed to dance against their black background. "But I suppose you knew that."

Awkwardly, Riku nodded. "Yeah. My little sister's named Kairi—we get told about the Keybearers all the time."

"I think they'd like that." She smiled suddenly, and he could see the young girl peeking out through her tired eyes. She'd been beautiful, once. "Popular name, Kairi. That's mine, too."

"Cool. I'm Riku." He grinned in embarrassment, but also strangely proud. Sora was a name that showed up everywhere, and Kairi was almost as popular, but Rikus were harder to find.

At the name, the old man looked up. With a shock that moved him back a step, Riku realized that his eyes were milky, only the barest hint of green showing under the film. He was blind. "Is he—"

The old woman glanced down at her friend. "Blind, yes. Sometimes I think it's a kindness, if anything can be for him anymore." She reached down and touched his shoulder. "Up. It's time to go home."

Like a puppet, the man stood, moving first one limb and then the other, as though moving both at once was too much effort. There was nothing in his expression that indicated any awareness of his surroundings. Each motion was precise and as empty as a doll. Riku watched nervously, skin crawling as the man's blind eyes stared straight through him.

"Is he okay?"

"As well as he can be." kairi hooked their arms together, clasping the gnarled hand in her own like a child's. "I do what I can, but he's less than a Nobody these days. He has been for a long, long time."

Nervous, but feeling like he had to say something, Riku asked, "Was— Is he your husband?"

"A friend. Sometimes a rival, but always a friend." She led the old man across the bridge, shoes clicking against the soft wood. The man walked as though unaware that he was blind, moving sideways when she nudged him and pausing when she tugged. Riku trailed behind, not sure of what to do, but also not wanting to be left alone on the island. As soon as his feet left the island, he felt himself relax, though he didn't know when he'd tensed up.

When the star-littered pavement was once again underfoot, the old woman yanked the gate closed with a practiced jerk. The lock took care of itself, sliding smoothly into place with a resounding _clonk_. Riku hesitated as the woman made sure her friend's jacket hadn't slipped and smoothed his hair out of his eyes.

"Um, do you need—"

"No, thank you." She finished her straightening. "You should go home. This wind is wicked at night."

"I was just going there..."

"Good. Go." She shooed him away, turning to go down the main street towards the ferry without even a good-bye. Riku paused, but she had been right about the wind. Goosebumps were already crawling up his arms, even though his jacket was thick and usually a match for any weather. His feet led him home, but the whole way he imagined he could feel blind eyes one him from somewhere in the shadows.

Riku bent over his history book, head aching with dates as he painfully finished the rough draft on an essay he should have begun weeks ago. He read the opening line aloud, twisting the words in his head until they blurred. There was something wrong with the sentence, but no matter how many ways he repeated it, nothing was working.

"... though the Keyblade Wars happened fifty years ago," he tried again, "their effects can still be seen around the universe... damn it!" He threw his pen down in disgust. If Axel were there, with his complete domination of language and brazen diregard of formalities, he might have continued to try. Without either, he conceded defeat and decided to move onto math.

Roxas and Axel made it to his house just in time to delivery the promised uniform, but not before the encroaching darkness made it too difficult to play. They'd hung out for a while, and Riku told them about the grave and its visitor, but all three of them had homework, and Riku's parents wouldn't let Roxas and Axel make out. It only took an hour before the other two boys made their excuses and left him to his dirty uniform and books. Riku tried to put the lonely statue under the paopu out of his head, eventually managing it with a calculus book and the loudest music files he could find on his computer. By the time he fell asleep, hunched over a smudged study guide, he'd forgotten all about it.

Dawn brought him awake with a gasp. A voice rang in his ears, shredding through his heart like razors.

_It is you!_

Riku gripped his desk and fought to catch his breath, dream images swimming in his head. Tears were still warm on his cheeks, dripping down his chin and nose ungracefully. Memories of the dream fell through his grip like water, sliding away into the darkness behind his eyes. All he was left with were tearstains on his homework and a certainty that he'd dreamed about the little island.

He went through the rest of the morning in a daze, eating breakfast and sailing through classes without sparing more attention than absolutely necessary. As soon as the lunch bell rang he was off to the library, where he buried himself in the reference section. The smell of paper and ink surrounded him on all sides as Riku took up a process he seldom found any use for: research. Eventually, his friends tracked him down, engrossed in a recent history of Destiny Islands.

"I told you he was sick," Roxas' voice commented in his ear. Riku jerked his eyes out of the book to find Roxas and Axel leaning over him, one on either side.

"Maybe it's contagious. Voluntary studying." Axel shuddered, as though he'd said _possession by darkness_. "We should smack him to make sure he's still breathing."

"Just stick a bag over his head," the blond suggested. "When it stops inflating, _that's_ when you hit him."

"Guys!" Riku smacked them both, shoving them out of his personal space. "I was just looking something up."

"What could be so important that you'd miss Pizza Wednesday?" Red hair and pale skin filled his vision as Axel leaned down close to his face. His open jacket pooled on the table, its oversized zipper like a fallen star against the stained wood. "Pizza Wednesday, Riku! That's like cafeteria gold, and you passed it up!"

"It's nothing." Both boys stared at him silently, Axel from the disconcerting distance of three inches. Riku pushed his chair back with an annoyed noise. "It is! Look, you know those old people I told you about?"

"The creepy lady with the blind guy?" Table legs squeaked against tile as Roxas took a seat on the table. "What about it?"

"She was blowing smoke. Look at this." He flipped the reference book around. It was open to a page that showed a chart of the highlights of all three Keybearers' lives. "None of them are dead, so how could one be buried in the Park?"

"I dunno." Thin fingers tapped a staccato against the chart labeled _Sora_, then dragged down the short list. "These look awfully short for people who're probably a hundred years old."

"Seventy-something," Riku corrected, enjoying the way Axel scowled at him.

"A hundred, seventy—whatever. But these guys were heroes. You'd think they'd have books of stuff about them. Not... this." Axel touched the last item on all three lists, _savior of the Keyblade Wars_. It was a sad, pathetic little line that didn't do any justice to the stories still told about the monsters they'd fought, or how much they'd given up to save everything in existence.

"Maybe they all died and no one knows." Cloth whispered loudly in the silence of the library as Roxas leaned against his boyfriend in a carefully neutral pose. They were each one more incident from a suspension, and the librarians had been on the watch for them since the desecration of several volumes at the start of the term. "No one even knows their surnames. It'd be simple to lose track of three people."

"People didn't have surnames back then," Riku reminded him absently, flipping the page to a picture of a Shadow Heartless. They'd been destroyed on Destiny Islands for fifty years, but even a picture of the thing made him shiver. The artist hadn't drawn any highlights in its dead yellow eyes, making it look like they were glowing from the inside. "There were only a few hundred people on the Islands before the worlds connected. No one needed them."

"You're shitting me!" Axel yanked the book out of his hands and began flipping through. "Where does it say that?"

"Everyone knows it!" Riku scrambled after the book, managing to hook his fingers in the binding. "Give it back! I'm not done with it!"

"Oh, I think you are." All three boys froze as the shadow of the librarian loomed over them, lips pursed sternly. One arm unfolded to indicate the exit. "I'll not lose another book to you three hooligans. Out!"

Before her whisper had even faded, they'd dropped the disputed text and were running for the door in a panic, dodging around library-goers and the occasional cart of returns. Axel, with his longer legs, just leaped over the carts. His jacket snapped behind him as he ran, edging far enough ahead to hold the door for his shorter friends.

The three of them collapsed against a pillar outside. Riku rested his forehead against the rough stone and let its coolness sink into his skin. Axel and Roxas propped each other up, exchanging weak jibes about escaping from the jaws of bookly doom. Storm clouds rumbled overhead, freshly blown in from the coast by a wind that smelled of sea salt and electricity.

"You jerks," Riku muttered, combing pale strands of hair out of his eyes. "I wasn't done yet."

"The old lady was just screwing with you," Axel announced decisively, sharp chin tilted at a stubborn angle. "She was probably crazy, and you bought it."

The short blond didn't look as sure as his boyfriend sounded, but Roxas nodded anyway. "It's just an old statue, Riku. Even if someone is buried there, they're probably just bones by now." He shrugged. "Just dust, Riku. Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, dust. And worms," Axel chimed in. Storm clouds slid over the sun, causing his eyes to glow an eerie green, like the fungus that grew on the walls of the Secret Place. "Beetles. All sorts of things sliming and munching away at rotted flesh—"

Riku's stomach roiled. "For Light's sake's!" He snapped, tipping his head back and covering his eyes. "Roxas! Control your pyro!"

"Down, Axel." He didn't have to look to imaging Roxas wrapping himself around the redhead's lanky frame. "Riku missed pizza. That's enough punishment for his stomach, don't you think?"

"I don't think."

Something unzipped. Riku's ears burned. "That's kind of obvious," he muttered, embarrassed for them. It wasn't worth the effort to be embarrassed about them, and neither one seemed to understand the idea of shame, other than as something that applied to other people. "Tell me when I can look."

"You can look."

Wary, Riku peeked out between his fingers first, just in case. Roxas had zipped Axel's coat against the stiff wind that was bringing in the storm. Riku dared to relax. He should have known that they wouldn't risk getting in trouble again.

"See?" Axel beamed, hair flying every which way while the thin strip of his white tie flowed like a banner on the wind. His smile seemed to say, _weren't you being silly?_ It should have been the first warning. "Perfectly safe." With that, he swooped down and pulled Roxas into a scorching kiss. The blond gave only a token protest before twisting his fingers in Axel's short red hair and giving as good as he got. Riku was positive he saw tongue and was about to intervene when someone else did it for him.

You two!" The vice principal bore down on them, sails set and brimming with homophobic fury. Axel and Roxas broke apart with a faintly disgusting pop, looking sheepish.

Riku summed up the situation for all of them. "Oh, _fuck_."

The early winter storm broke its rage against the walls of the school, rattling windows and blowing sleet in through the door every time it banged opened. Riku ignored it for the most part, having returned to the history section as soon as the final bell rang. He wasn't the only one waiting out the bad weather, and the presence of other students and faculty was a steady background murmur.

With all the extra people, the librarian didn't even notice that he was there, especially since he'd taken time to change out of his borrowed uniform. He'd barely escaped being in trouble with Axel and Roxas, and he suspected that if the vice principal had been able to punish him as well, he would have. Axel and Roxas barely had been able to talk their way out of a set of suspensions, but nothing would get them out of a day of detention. In a hidden corner of his heart, Riku was glad that they were stuck in a classroom. The history books he'd found were a hundred times more fascinating than he'd expected, and they never would have been able to shut up long enough for him to really read.

Riku had never paid attention in history when recent events were brought up. He'd never, in fact, paid attention in history when history was brought up. The past of Destiny Islands was a long series of dittos until the most recent century, and everyone knew about the Keyblade Masters and Wars, so what was the point in listening? His marks were always good enough to please his parents, and that was what counted.

Now that he had actually started paying attention, he was finding a lot of unanswered questions that he was positive no one had told him about before. Entire chunks of the Keybearers' lives were conspicuously absent from every biography he'd been able to find, and no one seemed to be able to agree on the cause of the Keyblade Wars, or how they finished. His textbook claimed that the Dark Keybearer had been possessed and tried to kill the other two. That was the story he'd grown up with. Another book said it was a battle between the Keyblades themselves, with Sora and Riku only along for the ride. The third claimed that the _Light_ Keybearer had somehow caused the universe-wide attack of Heartless. None of the books mentioned the Princess Keybearer much, except they all seemed to agree that she'd been somehow important. Even more annoying, none of them knew what happened after the War. The Keybearers had just... vanished.

_You'd think 95% of the island population getting eaten by heartless would make for more accurate reporting._ He flipped a few more useless pages and then gave the book up as a lost cause. It was enough to make him think seriously about stealing the books and letting Axel set them on fire.

When the storm finally died away, Riku had given up with disgust and had started doodling mustaches on the various Keyblades pictured in the books. That was another thing that annoyed him. For famous figures of legend, there didn't seem to be _any_ pictures of any of them. He would have liked to see what they looked like. In his head, Sora had grown to twelve feet tall, had eyes that glowed with power, and swung a Keyblade almost as big as he was.

Before he could be caught defacing precious books, Riku shelved his new artwork and slipped out into the evening light. The sun was already nearly down, half-hidden behind the giant tree that dominated the tiny community. He hurried his steps, not daring to run on the ice-slick streets. The wind cut through his jacket, a nearly-solid thing loaded with the cold of the sleet it had just dropped on the islands. After the sun set, the temperature would plummet. Overhead the sky had settled close to land, a sullen gray that turned the ocean dark and drained color from everything. Even the fallen leaves, which had been bright and colorful the day before, had faded to dull brown.

As he passed the iron gate, Riku found his steps slowing involuntarily. Almost against his will, his eyes strained against the growing dark to find the pale figure of the Keyblade under the paopu. He finally stopped, hand pressed to the lock. Something called to him, too strong to just be curiosity and far more irresistible.

"It's a gravestone, right?" he reasoned under his breath, leaning against the bars of the fence. A fading ray of sunlight peeked through the clouds and glinted golden off the statue. "If it is, then it'll say something... Here lies Joe, good riddance. That sort of thing." The wind pressed against his back, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and teasing them as he jiggled the lock half-hopefully. He didn't expect anything to happen, so when it snapped open he almost dropped it entirely.

Not believing his luck but willing to take advantage of it, Riku gently set his bag down to block the gate open and padded down the path. Ice and frozen slime slid under his feet. The old bridge was basically held together by rot and rusting nails, turning it treacherous in cold weather. Though he moved slowly and tested every spot fully before resting his weight on it, Riku acquired several scrapes and bruises before reaching Paopu Island.

This time nothing strange happened when he walked across the island, though a superstitious tingle crawled over the back of his neck. The wind died to a sleepy whisper, but that was just the giant tree shielding him from it. Just over the ocean horizon, the dark storm clouds had cleared enough to show the sun as it finished its daily journey across the sky. It was bloody red, a stab wound in the sky that dirtied the ocean and sky. It reminded him that he didn't have much time before sunset.

The stone Keyblade was exactly as he remembered it. It disappointed him. Somehow, he'd expected it to have changed, as though looking at it should have started some dramatic chain of events. Giving himself a good shake and a warming rub of the arms, he began to inspect the stone. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for, though it didn't give him any answers at all.

At the base of the handle on the shaft of the blade, inscribed in a flowing script so ornate that he could barely read it, were the words, "Two Hearts". There was nothing else but the words. Puzzled, Riku sank to his knees, intending to check under the handle for more clues. He gripped the blade for balance, then yanked his hand back with a surprised sound.

It was warm, as warm as living flesh and certainly more so than a piece of stone that had just been in an ice storm should have been. Icy mud slipped under his hands and Riku scrambled backwards through the mud, heart pounding in his throat and breath coming in short gasps. The statue didn't move.

Riku sat in on the soggy ground, silently berating himself when nothing jumped out of the shadows to seize him. The last of the sun vanished entirely, leaving the tiny island wreathed in darkness. Determined to prove to himself that there was nothing to worry about, he slowly rolled to his knees and crawled back to the Keyblade. Even with his best efforts, his skin prickled a warning and fear filled his veins with a thousand different chemical compounds, each of them doing their best to make him flee.

"I. Won't. Run," Riku ground out between teeth locked together with cold and terror. Stubbornly, he reached out and gripped the shaft. It was still warm, and it pulsed under his hand like a heartbeat.

A noise on the wind whispered through the branches, a spectral sound that he felt vibrate deep in his inner ear. It took the terror and wound it into a little ball, deep in his core, where something muffled it.

_Don't be scared..._

"I'm not scared!" he told it so loudly that it almost felt like the truth. The ground under him seemed to thaw, as though the Keyblade were warming it somehow. He tried to pry his hand off the statue, but it refused to unlock. Panic began to steep through him, eating away from the inside out.

"Just the wind," he whispered fervently, trying to loosen each finger individually. The resisted as though cemented in place, knuckles cracking as he pried at them. "Only my imagination. Only..."

_Don't be scared,_ the wind repeated, wrapping warmth around him like a shroud, like a pair of arms. It weakened his muscles, softened his panic into something bearable. He could feel fingers running through his hair, down his cheek tenderly. Everywhere they touched burned in contrast to the freezing air around him. Hot lips touched his neck, searing the skin. _I missed you so much, Riku..._

"Please." Words locked in his throat, hissing out in a murmur that he couldn't hear even over his own slowing heartbeat. It was a dream. It _had_ to be a dream "Let me go. Ple—"

His pleading was drowned out by harsh screams from above. A flock of crows took flight out of the paopu, settling down again immediately without light to navigate by. Regardless, the damage had been done. In the space between two moments, the warmth of the Keyblade and ground fled, leaving him wracked with cold. Tears Riku hadn't realized he'd been crying had frozen to his cheeks. They cracked as he scrubbed them.

Light flashed over the ground in a long golden stream. "Oi! Anyone here? No trespassing!"

Trembling on legs almost numb with bitter cold, Riku stumbled to his feet. The flashlight beam crossed his chest briefly, but he staggered forward onto the bridge and past the startled security guard.

"You! Hey, you! Get back here!" The guard's footsteps sounded on the bridge after him, but Riku had a head start and it was dark. Curses carried after him as the man damned everything from children to the weather. Riku grabbed his bag without a break in strike and pounded down the still slipper streets, leaving the grave far behind.

"Mom's going to be _so_ pissed at you," were the first words Riku heard as he stumbled through the front door. His sister Kairi smirked up from her video game with all the smugness her thirteen years had to offer.

"Shut up." Riku dropped his bag in the entry and began to struggle out of his mud-soaked clothing. Every bit of him that wasn't soaking wet was caked in the stuff. _Graveyard dirt,_ he thought with a shudder as he tossed his jacket, sweater and jeans into the laundry room. The incident was already fading away in his memory, almost until he could convince himself that his own imagination had caused it. His skin felt like cold clay under his fingertips, but his outer clothes were so wet they would only chill him even more. Clad only in a plain black shirt and his boxers he headed for the kitchen.

"So where were you then?" she asked snidely, punching the controls of her game rapidly. Her silvery hair had been fashioned into blue-tipped spikes, supposedly "the latest thing" among girls. He'd never noticed female fashion much, and so had been forced to take her word on it. "Or did your fag friends get you another detention?"

"Don't call them that," he responded automatically, reaching into the kitchen cabinet for a bowl. It almost slipped from his grasp as a spasm shook him, his body finally reacting to the warm air of the house. Carefully, Riku lowered the bowl to the counter and gripped the edge, waiting for the shivering to subside. He tried to make it look like he was lounging voluntarily, in case his sister happened to peek at him over the counter. "I just waited out the storm at school. Mom'll understand, and if she doesn't, then Dad will."

Kairi didn't even look up from her game. "Then where'd you get that hickey?'

"Hickey?" Riku's hand automatically flew to his neck. "I don't have a hickey!"

"Yeah, right. Try another one, lover boy." The most infuriating thing was the way she snickered when she said it, packing whole universes of irony into two words. "Maybe you burned yourself on the curling iron; your hair's girlie enough for it."

"Light! Will you shut up already?" Annoyance out-weighed hunger. He put the bowl away and stalked to the bathroom, ignoring his sister's catcalls as they echoed from the living room.

As soon as the door was shut and locked, Riku turned to the mirror to inspect his neck. His hair was tinted dirty gray and brown by a layer of dirt, and clung stubbornly to his fingers as he moved it behind his shoulders. Even with his hair out of the way, he still had to rub off a layer of grime. _How'd she see anything under this?_ he thought disgustedly, rinsing out the washcloth for the third time.

Just under his hairline, where only a sister's instinct for sibling embarrassment could have detected it, was a raised red mark in the rough shape of a kiss. He touched it with light fingers, then more firmly as no sensation registered. It was entirely numb and still bitterly cold to the touch.

Memory of the voice in his ear raised more goosebumps, of the type distinctly unrelated to temperature. He could almost feel the hand against his cheek.

_I missed you..._

Riku whacked himself upside the head. "Stop thinking about it," he growled aloud, letting his voice fill the bathroom to drown the memory. Resolutely, he turned away from the mirror and turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it. The white noise of falling water filled the highly noise-conductive room, chasing away the lingering whispers of what he told himself was his own imagination. Steam filled the white tiled room quickly, and had already fogged over the mirror by the time he stepped under the water.

At first it was almost too hot, but after forcing himself to stay under the spray he acclimated. Heat soaked into him, taking away the chill that lingered in his muscles and bones. Mud dripped out of his hair and down the drain, swirling like blood in a bad horror film. He attacked that first, pouring on a whole palmfull of shampoo and scrubbing the grime from his scalp with his fingertips. Lather dripped down his forehead, forcing him to close his eyes as he removed every speck of grit from his hair.

Hands closed over his, gently rubbing the soap from his eyes. _Let me._

Alarm caused Riku's entire body to stiffen as he shoved backwards, head cracking loudly against the tiled wall, eyes opening wide at the pain. Blue eyes, incredibly familiar eyes, stared at him from under the spray of water. He could barely see the figure as more than an outline, though he hadn't steamed the room up _that_ badly. His eyes watered, both from the new pain in his head and from the effort of trying to see the person.

"Who..?" He hadn't realized he'd said it aloud until the figure stepped forward, almost touching him. _The shower's not that big,_ Riku reasoned, closed to hysteria even in his own head. _It—He— I should be able to see him._ He closed his eyes as they threatened to cross when the person—boy—touched his cheek. The wall was clearly visible behind him, making him look less substantial than morning mist. Terror bled into a strange excitement that dried his mouth and made him aware of every inch of his exposed skin. "_What_ are you? Are you a ghost? Who are you?"

Sadness so tangible it felt like molasses filling his chest almost buckled Riku's knees. _You've forgotten me, Riku? But..._ Hands flitted down his shoulders, as real as flesh could feel but burning hot everywhere it touched. They lingered over his heart, pushing against his chest as though the boy would reach in and snatch it. _Hades said you'd forget, that you weren't dead, but I didn't believe him, and now you're here... you're _here_..._ The touches became frantic, pinning him in place as the water around him began to chill quickly. Ice formed around the edges of the tub. _You wouldn't forget, you swore you'd never forget! You swore!_

In a flash of cold air, the boy vanished. Heat roared back into the water, burning his skin where it had been chilled by the ghost's touch. Small ice crystals melted away, leaving no evidence of the visitation at all.

Drinks rattled as Riku smacked his open palm down on the table. Nearby students looked up from their meals, then away again when they saw which group was making the noise. "I'm not crazy!" Riku insisted, voice straining to hold to a whisper. "It was a ghost!"

Axel patted his shoulder, subtly forcing him to remain seated. "Easy bud. Did we say you're crazy?"

"Yes." He leveled a glare at his friends. "You did."

"We did?" The redhead sounded surprised as he cocked his head, recalling the start of the conversation. "Huh. Guess we did."

Roxas swatted his boyfriend on the butt, then grabbed the back of his pants and forced him to sit. "Shut up, Axel. You're not helping." He rolled his eyes at Riku apologetically. "You've gotta admit he's got a point. It _does_ sound kind of far-fetched. Why would a ghost haunt _you_?"

Not looking up, Riku fiddled with his fries, drawing patterns in the ketchup. When he caught himself sketching the outline of a face and wishing ketchup came in blue for the eyes, he shoved the container aside and buried his head in his arms. The couple shifted positions to sit beside him, one on either side. Axel stretched a brotherly arm over his shoulder, while Roxas forced his head up by the chin. People gave their table a wide berth, in case weird was catching.

"Are you sure you should have come today?" the blonde asked bluntly, peeing open one of Riku's eyelids to investigate the bloodshot state of his eyes. "You look like shit. Did you even sleep last night?"

Riku found himself unable to answer, staring at the perfectly sky-colored eyes of someone he'd known so long that he'd stopped actually looking at him. "Blue." The word slipped out before his tired mind could stop it.

"Yes, Riku. Blue." A lanky arm squeezed his shoulders patronizingly as Axel reached for the fry container. "Roxas has blue eyes. And look - red." He held it up. "Ketchup is—OOF!" Riku's elbow caught the taller boy precisely in the solar plexus, leaving Axel hunched over the table and wheezing for air.

"Thanks. Saved me the trouble." Roxas ignored Axel's pained noises and finished his inspection of Riku. "So? Answer up; did you sleep last night? And what about blue? Eat this." The remains of Axel's lunch was shoved into Riku's hands and half-guided to his mouth before Riku remembered his tattered dignity and yanked away. Axel tried to protest, but was ignored.

"I slept a little," Riku mumbled around a bite of burger, staring at the food. When he concentrated, he could feel ghostly hands on him. "And... you've got eyes like he does. Exactly like he does." A shiver raced down his spine, though Riku wasn't sure if it was fear or another, equally primal emotion that caused it. In case Roxas noticed, he added, "It's freaky."

Those blue eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, but Roxas let it go. "Maybe he was a relative. Grandma immigrated from Radiant Gardens. They get some weird eye colors there."

Riku shook his head. "I think he might have been a Keybearer."

"Okay, that's it!" Axel sat up almost straight, his voice still breathy. The tattoos he'd drawn under his eyes that day had smeared slightly, turning two tear drops into diamonds. "You're thinking too much about that stupid statue. Get it off your mind and this 'ghost' will go away."

"At least get some sleep." Roxas added as kindly as Riku had ever heard him, which wasn't very. "Why'd you stay up, anyway?"

How to explain the feeling of something watching? That every time he started to drift off, he could _feel_ the ghost waiting for it? "No reason."

"Yeah." Again, neither boy believed him, but Axel kept Roxas silent by casually slipping his hand under the table and doing something that turned the tips of his ears red. "It's your skin, I guess. You know how to take care of yourself."

"Thanks," Riku answered with a small smile. Roxas was obviously trying to find enough willpower to pull away, which widened Riku's smile considerably.

"And if you don't, we'll get Nurse Brutus to wrestle you into a bed for nappy time."

"... thanks," Riku repeated himself sourly.

White teeth gleamed even in Axe's pale face. "No charge."

Roxas finally freed himself from his boyfriend's ministrations, shifting his chair sideways awkwardly. "Yeah, well, what he said," he coughed, cheeks pink. "If you really think it's a Keyblade thing, you should try and find that old lady. She seemed to know a lot."

"We've never seen her before." A straw waved at both pale-haired boys as Axel made his point. "What are the odds? He should just stick to the ghost. Maybe we can hang out there for Victory Day."

"And miss the parade?" Riku asked. His favorite part of the universe-wide holiday and harvest festival was the parade. "And the food? Moogle games?"

"Good point." Roxas poked Axel in the side for daring to suggest they miss free food. "We'll figure it out eventually. Got to keep our priorities straight."

As it turned out, the odds were pretty good. Riku didn't bother searching the library after class, though he did spend most of their Chemistry Lab explaining the complete waste of paper the school's history books were. Axel, who had been banned from handling any potential explosives at the start of the term, listened intently from the corner that had been dubbed "Axel's Exile" and fully endorsed stealing the books for kindling.

The result of a relatively trouble-free day and no extra-curricular activities meant that the three of them had just gotten to the Park when the old lady appeared out of what seemed like thin air. Riku tripped over himself and barely prevented a fall over his own feet in an effort to keep from running her over.

"You're looking for me," she announced cryptically, adjusting her black headscarf so it shadowed her eyes from the sun. The wind twisted the fringe of it into hopeless snarls, some so bad they looked like mats. She stared down her nose at them imperiously, chin lifted with pride. Even Axel, who towered over her delicate frame, cowered a little.

"Um, not really us," Roxas offered the sacrificial Riku forward with a hard shove that almost sent him stumbling into her again. "He was. We're just tagging along."

"Are you?" White hair fanned forward from under her scarf as the elderly woman leaned forward to inspect their faces closely. "Do I know you three?" she asked intently. "You look familiar.... Paperboys?" All three boys shook their heads violently, Axel so fast that his short crown of red hair flared like a spiky umbrella. A sigh lifted the woman's thin chest. "I thought not. Age, boys. It makes even the most loved of faces fade away..." Giving herself a small shake, she straightened up. "Why were you looking for me, then?"

"How did you know I was looking?" Riku countered, feeling brave as he remembered having already survived one conversation with her. Something about the tired sadness in her voice made him want to apologize, though no amount of thought brought forth something to be sorry _for_. "We hadn't even started yet!"

"I have ways."

"Hey, buddy?" Axel had already backed himself several feet away. A protesting Roxas was in a headlock under his arm, being dragged along. "You know, I forgot to tell you, we've got something to do today. Very important. Can't wait. Sorry." With every sentence he fell further and further back. "There's a meeting; top secret gay thing—even a handshake. Let us know how it goes okay see you kiss-kiss-bye!" Excuse made, Axel bodily picked up the thrashing Roxas and ran as fast and far as his long legs could carry him.

Riku stared after them, not sure whether to feel betrayed or to look forward to the blackmail opportunities Axel had just dropped in his lap.

"I do believe your friends are afraid of me." Dark amusement bubbled in her eyes. "I don't think anyone's ever been afraid of me before."

Honesty was called for. "You kinda are scary, ma'am."

She sighed again, and this time it carried a lifetime of regret. "I wasn't always. Walk with me." Without pausing to see if he would, she turned and began to stroll down a side street. Riku stayed beside her, wondering which question to ask first. It didn't seem like she had any particular destination, which suited him. He couldn't think of a place to start that didn't sound insane.

After several silent minutes, she spoke without turning her head. "It just occurred to me that I never introduced myself. My name is Kairi—Princess Kairi."

Something in Riku's head went _click_. "Kairi? _That_ Kairi?" He jogged a few steps ahead and turned around, staring at her unabashedly. Nothing about the thin, tired old woman in front of him was anything like he thought a Keyblade Master would be. "But— but you're a legend! A Princess!"

"I was a legend," she admitted, trailing her hand along the faces of the shops they were passing. "But even legends must eat, and heroes have to pay their rent. And we all grow old. If we're lucky." She smiled at him, wrinkles folding her tissue paper skin. "But it's not me you wanted to ask about. You want to know about Sora."

"The one on the island?"

"Yes." Her head tipped back, strange lavender eyes looking up at the perfect sky. He almost expected her to cry. "Most people don't know the story. It would be demoralizing, the King said. People must have heroes, and heroes must be immortal."

"Why are you telling me this?" A crowd of people pushed passed him, laughing loudly at some joke. They barely touched her, detouring so that it seemed like a bubble of space stood around her on all sides. Kairi kept walking on, her skirt swirling in the breeze made by so many bodies. Then the flood of people passed and they were alone on the street again.

"Because you want to know," she answered in the quiet. "Because I'm dying, Riku may as well be dead, and someone should know the truth, before it dies with us.

"The War killed him. Riku had gone to the darkness to close the Doors there. Only he could go safely—we didn't know why, not then..." Her voice lowered, as if imparting a horrible secret. "We didn't know it had taken a piece of him, and left some of itself. If we had..." Thin shoulders drooped even more. "I was with the King, teaching the worlds to work together against the Dark Keybearers. Sora had stayed home, to guard the Door here." Riku listened raptly as she told the story in her low, sad voice. Her head was lowered, so he couldn't see her face, but he could hear the pain in every word. "When the final attack came, none of us were ready. Just the four of us, against hundreds... I was with the King and Riku when Sora fell." The sky began to darken as a chill wind bit through their clothing. Drops of moisture darkened the pavement under her feet, though the sky was cloudless. Riku pretended not to notice.

"I thought Riku had been killed, at first," she continued thickly. "He just screamed, once, and then... dropped. No movement, no sound. And the Heartless ignored him. When the battle was over, the King tried to call him back, but... he was gone. Just a shell. And then we found Sora. What was left of Sora." Kairi looked up, eyes clouded but no longer crying. "His heart followed Sora. I know it did."

The most burning questions spilled out, tumbling over each other like a waterfall of words. "The man who was with you—that's the real Riku? Why—How'd the Keyblade get there? Is it haunted?"

"Yes, that's Riku," she cut him off. "What's left of him. The Keyblade..." Thin lips pursed thoughtfully. "We buried Sora where he would have wanted, and the Keyblade appeared the next day. I don't know where it came from."

"Is it haunted?" Riku pressed, shivering as something hot brushed against his cheek and then vanished. He turned around to walk, so she couldn't see his face. "Does Sora haunt it?"

Kairi didn't seem to mind not seeing his face as they walked side-by-side. They were making a giant circle through the town, and up ahead he could see the fence surrounding the Park. "If he does, I wouldn't be the one Sora would want." Her scarf slipped as she shook her head. "I'm not the one he shared a paopu with. Why do you ask?" The question flew like a razor. "Have you seen him?"

"Erm.." Riku hesitated, feeling a blush creep up his neck, which stood in stark contrast to the chill down his spine. They paused by the locked gate of the Memorial Park, both looking across the bridge to the little marker under the tree. "Maybe."

"Maybe, hm?" She eyed him wryly, a not-smile almost curling her lips.

"Thank you for the story," Riku mumbled uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot.

"Thank you for listening." Delicate hands released the gate as she stepped back and away. Her eyes stared hard at him, as though he was a butterfly, stretched out and pinned for her inspection. "You remind me of someone. I wish I could remember who. Be careful."

He nodded, eyes lowered, unable to meet her searching stare. "I will."

Riku sank down into bed that night with his mind whirling with everything he had learned. The darkness behind his eyes enfolded him, comforted him. He'd always liked sleeping, and his bed was someplace nothing could get him. As a child, he'd never been afraid of the monsters in the dark—he'd been afraid of the ones in the light. His bedroom was still as sleep dragged him under and tucked away the waking world.

Something heavy settled on the edge of the bed, radiating heat. The chill of the nighttime air plummeted into freezing. _You're here. Where are you?_

_It's him,_ came the half-frightened thought. Riku fought to open his eyes, only to find they were already open. Something was folded over them, feeling like a silk scarf, but far more opaque.

_It's me,_ the ghost agreed cheerfully, not at all put out that he could read Riku's thoughts. Hot fingers ghosted over Riku's shoulder, following the line of his collarbone up to his neck. Riku held his breath as a hand cupped his jaw lovingly. _Where are you? I can feel your heart, but I can't see you. Let me see you._

"I—" Riku began, hesitating as a thumb pressed against his lower lip teasingly, almost burning him. "I can't see you either."

_Let me fix that._ The weight shifted, leaning forward. Lips descended on his, prying his mouth open with a demanding tongue and scorching the inside of his mouth with every touch. Automatically, Riku arched up into the touch, wrapping his arms around a waist he couldn't see. He'd never dated at all, but the motions fell into place, like a trigger he'd never known he had until someone tripped it.

_How can a ghost be so warm?_ Teeth tugged at his bottom lip, and Riku obligingly opened his mouth wider. Heat pooled in his stomach, spreading to become an ache in his groin. It was the only thing warm about him, in sharp contrast to the boy above him. His cheeks were going numb by the time the kiss ended, heart thudding as it fought to push blood around his body. The teenager opened his eyes, surprised to see bright blue ones above him. They were solid, as real as the rest of the room. Chestnut spikes topped a heart-shaped face that seemed made to smile and laugh. For a ghost, he looked like the very essence of life. Confirmation, in Riku's mind, that he was dreaming.

A piece of fabric dangled from the ghost's hand—a black silk blindfold, just as Riku thought. _I can't see you when you wear this,_ he chided gently, dropping it to the floor, where it dissipated into the shadows.

Confused, Riku shook his head. "I'm sorry... Sora."

The moment the name left his lips, the ghost's face lit up with a smile so wide Riku had to answer it with one of his own. His face was peppered with burning kisses and even hotter teardrops that faded into flashes of light like stars gone nova.

_You remember,_ Sora kept repeating, between kisses, eyes brighter than anyone sane ever had. _I knew you would. I knew you'd remember. Hades was _wrong_! You're here, and you remember!_

Sora's body pinned Riku to the bed, almost melting him to the mattress. Riku found it hard to focus even on that. He was so cold it was everything he could do to keep his teeth from chattering. "I'm not who you think I am," he whispered, breath coming fast. It formed a cloud in the air, condensed by the cold.

_Of course you are._ Sora kept him pinned, but lifted up to stare at him adoringly. There was nothing in his face that registered even the chance that Riku was right. _You're Riku, and you still remember! Even after—_ The soundless voice stumbled, Sora's face twisting as though fighting off an unpleasant memory. It was gone in a moment, but darkness lingered in his smile. _And we'll be together soon, I promise._ He leaned down for a last, lingering kiss. _My Riku. Mine, mine, mine._

"Not your Riku," he managed against Sora's lips, cold and exhaustion turning Riku's thoughts to lead. _He's insane._ The thought oozed out so slowly that even the mind-reading ghost missed it. "Not dead."

_You are,_ Sora insisted, breaking the kiss by a breath. _You just don't know it. But I'll fix everything. You know I always fix what I've broken._ He leaned down to press their lips together again. The last thing Riku remembered before exhaustion and cold thrust him into unconsciousness was the glitter of a tear as it froze on his eyelashes.

Sandy soil gave way under Riku's fingers as he fought to wake up the next morning, hands clawing the ground as he oriented himself. The sun was high and warm overhead, shining with a cheer that echoed the rest of the world. His eyes were crusted with grime, and small rocks poked his knees through his ragged pajama bottoms as he pushed himself to a kneeling position, only to find himself staring uncomprehendingly at the Keyblade. The engraving glinted at him, mica in the stone reflecting the sunlight cruelly.

_Two Hearts_

Crying out, he scrambled backward off the grave, heart hammering in his chest. His back smacked into someone's knees. A dark skirt wrapped around him, blown by the wind.

"You don't look like someone who meant to sleep here." Kairi's gnarled hand came down on his shoulder.

Shaking with relief, Riku craned his head back, leaning into her presence. The old man stood behind her, motionless as a statue, with an arm of roses deeper in color than blood. The story rushed out of him, relief at a familiar and above-all _living_ faces dragging it out. "I didn't— Sora! He was in my room and— He thinks I'm Riku! The other Riku! And that I'm dead! I'm not dead!" He was hyperventilating, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The first few visitations had been almost a game—frightening, but harmless. This time the game had turned deadly serious, and knowing what Sora wanted from him curled his stomach into an iron ball of fear. "I don't want to die!"

A bouquet of yellow and white roses dropped to the ground and she knelt beside him, rubbing circles on his back. "Calm down, shhh. Deep breaths, you won't help anything by passing out." She pushed his head down between his knees. "Easy, child, easy. Shhh." Slowly, feeling like Sisyphus pushing the rock up the hill, Riku slowed his breathing until it was almost normal. Each breath seemed precious, now that he knew something wanted to stop them forever.

Once he seemed calm, Kairi let him sit up normally. His back ached and his head swam, but the panic was gone. He could still feel it, waiting deep inside, but it no longer threatened to engulf him. "Now, slowly, tell me what happened."

Word by word, Riku stumbled out the story, starting with the voice on the island. Kairi's hand never left his back, and the small human touch gave him strength. He blushed when the kissing part came up, but her hand never left him. It felt like she was pushing him to finish a story she already knew, or feared she did.

"And then I woke up here," he finished lamely, looking down at his hands. They were grubby with dirt and sand. His nails were cracked and broken, bleeding in some places and simply raw in others. The finger knuckles ached as though he'd developed arthritis. _Or like I'd been digging all night,_ he realized, seeing the long furrows missing from the top layer of the grave. Riku's stomach roiled, and he looked away before he could throw up.

Kairi's head shook slowly, blue-veined hands still on his shoulder and back comfortingly. "I don't think he means to hurt you, but... You must hide from him tonight. Somehow."

"How do you hide from a ghost?" A bird chirped in the paopu behind him, its shrill cry breaking the sound of the waves. Death wasn't the only thing on the tiny island, something he found hard to remember with the Keyblade so close. "Am I supposed to hide forever?"

"Just tonight." Knees audibly popping, she stood, and pulled him up with her. The other Keybearer still hadn't moved so much as an inch, blind eyes staring out at the waves. "Tomorrow is Victory Day," she explained, gesturing at the roses they'd brought. "The anniversary of the final battle—and of Sora's death. If you can make it through tonight, I think you'll be safe.'

"And next year?" he demanded, trying to brush the dirt off his bare knees. They, too, were scraped and bloody.

"We'll deal with that when it comes," came the reasonable answer. "But now, we must hide you. Do you have a blindfold?"

"I can make one."

"Good. Wear it. He said he can't see you when it's on—maybe that will work." She brushed the mud-encrusted hair out of his eyes with a sad smile. Her fingers lingered over a forming bruise on his cheek. "I can see why he thinks you're his Riku. You look just like him."

"Huh?" Riku shook his head and took a step away, feeling his skin creep at her expression.

Kairi's hand fell from his face gracefully, reaching into her pocket to pull out a worn photograph. She presented it to him like it was a grand jewel, and maybe to her it was. "I remembered why you look familiar. Here."

The edges of the picture were yellowed and brittle under his fingers, and the sharp blue of the ocean behind them had faded to a muddy green. Even with the age of the picture, there was no mistaking the people in it. It was himself, or someone enough like him to be a twin, with his arm around a younger version of the very person who was haunting him. They were grinning at each other, obviously caught in an unexpected moment. Sora looked happy, content, in a way his spirit didn't, as though having the other boy there kept him complete.

"This was... them?" Riku asked hoarsely, holding it as carefully as possible.

"Two years before the War. Be careful, Riku." Her eyes bored through him. "Hearts that have been torn apart don't give up easily, and Sora's heart has been shredded so much, even I can't know what's left of it anymore."

When Riku arrived home just after noon, clean and damp after a dip in the waterfall, his parents both almost had heart attacks from relief. They'd skipped work when they'd woken up and found him gone, and both of his sisters had almost skipped school in the panic. Neither listened to his half-hearted explanation, which he was grateful for. They wouldn't have believed him anyway, and it made things less complicated if they thought he'd been out with a girl. After a sound scolding from his mother and a semi-approving smirk from his father, he was filled with soup and shuffled off to bed with orders to sleep it off. He was exhausted even from the short walk home, and gladly stumbled back to his bedroom.

It was flooded with sunlight from the open windows, looking almost summery in the liquid-gold glare. He left the windows open, wanting the light as long as it would last after the cold darkness of the night before. Before falling into bed, he pulled out an old black t-shirt and used the hem to make a thick blindfold. He tied it on and sank back into the pillows, willing himself to sleep while the sun was up and it was safe.

He woke to the bite of the wind against his cheeks as he staggered forward, still blindfolded but moving with a resolution he didn't actually feel. Icy pavement had already frozen his feet into numbness, to the point where he couldn't feel the rough texture of the cement, or the inevitable rocks that were the bane of every beachfront town. His legs moved of their own accord, dodging obstacles he couldn't see and taking turns he knew were there only by the light posts that brushed his hands.

_He's found me, he's found me, he's found me._ The mantra repeated endlessly, terror sending his thoughts around in circles. Desperate, Riku grabbed one of the poles and tried to keep from moving forward, but his fingers were as numb as his feet and barely gripped anything at all. It wasn't enough to keep his treacherous legs from continuing onward.

Riku's head swam with disorientation, but he didn't dare remove the blindfold. Certainty of his destination solidified as he heard the distinctive sound of an iron gate swinging open. With an effort that wrenched his shoulders, he grabbed the gate and wrapped his arms through it. His back muscles convulsed as his legs continued trying to move, but he'd anchored himself too firmly. Though it felt as though the muscles would detach themselves from the bone, Riku locked his elbows and hung on, cries silenced as the cold night snatched the air from his lungs.

The battle with his own body was fought in complete silence. Even the crickets were quiet, long ago killed by the coming winter. Iron bars burned into his bare arms like dry ice, not warming even when his arms grew slick with sweat and effort. The sweat froze against the ice, cracking and pulling at his skin. Still, he held on, even when the skin cracked and something warmer than sweat trickled down his arms.

After what felt like hours, Riku's knees finally collapsed from the stress, dragging him to the ground. His bare feet still scraped the cement, trying to find some sort of purchase to wrest him away. They were bleeding too, the blood coating and warming his soles enough to chase the numbness away a little, enough to feel every rock, every thorn, as they dug into his abused heels. Eventually even his feet gave up, too abused to continue the fight, no matter what called them.

Even after his body's capitulation, Riku held onto the gate, grimly determined to stay attached to it through the night if he had to.

_Riku?_ A twig broke behind him._Where are you? Riku!_

The desperation in the ghost's voice tugged Riku's heart, but he kept his grip tight and his thoughts still, just in case. _Please!_ Sora's sob traveled down Riku's spine, bringing tears to his own eyes. Something deep in him wanted to cry out, to take the anguish from the other, but a stubborn will to live kept his lips sealed.

_I know you're here—I can feel you! Please don't leave me again..._ Footsteps drew nearer, crunching the ever-present sand. _I love you. I _love_ you. Don't leave me. Don't... Remember the paopu?_ Something clattered to the ground, landing on his shin heavily. He thought it was the gate lock. _You swore you wouldn't leave me alone. You swore..._ The ghost was so close, he could feel the heat leeching from his insides, being snatched away.

_Is it because I— I hurt you?_ Sora was crying, wrenching sobs that Riku could almost feel tearing his own chest apart. _I let you go, I love you, I didn't mean to hurt you... I didn't! I let you have that little girl—I let you have everybody!_ His speech became more broken, frantic as he tried to explain. _Even me! I love you, you said you wouldn't leave me alone, you _promised_ so and I let— I couldn't— I'm not Kairi and I tried so hard and you— you—_

In spite of his resolve, Riku whimpered as Sora broke down, gravel scattering as he collapsed. A harsh sound ripped out of Riku's chilled throat. "Don't—don't cry," he gasped, arms loosening from around the gate. Even that small movement lanced agony down his back as torn muscles stretched. Before he could cry out, burning hot arms slipped around him, lifting him up and holding him close. Immediately the heat leeched out of him, numbing everything deeper than his skin.

Cotton shredded under Sora's fingers as he shakily ripped the blindfold off. He looked almost normal, alive, and wasn't transparent at all. There were even tear tracks dripping down his cheeks, leaving small blisters where they landed on Riku's skin. Even in the dark, his eyes were sapphire blue, glowing with a light that seemed just under his skin. Riku closed his eyes against the brilliance of it, but it left rainbow spots behind his lids.

_You forgive me? For hurting your heartless?_ Sora asked desperately, fingers scorching trails along Riku's scalp. His steps echoed on the bridge, louder than they should have been, even in the ultra-quiet of the night. _You really do? Are you scared? Don't be scared. I love you._

"I don't want to die." The admission came out as an almost inaudible croak, half-muffled by Sora's chest. Riku pushed against the ghost, but was so weak that he couldn't even lift his arms. His heart thudded slowly, fighting the chill and exhaustion. It was losing. "Don't take me."

_Don't worry. I'll take care of you. We'll never be apart again._ Sora stepped off the bridge with a light hop and kept walking, each step sinking lower and lower into the ground. The entire island was warm against Riku's skin, the air rich and moist with a false promise of summer. It did nothing to ease the leaden weight of his limbs, or to warm the blood he could feel congealing in his veins. Darkness began to fall behind his eyes as the first of the strangely liquid earth started to climb up his legs, the true darkness that had nothing to do with a mere absence of light.

Riku pried his eyes open, unable to even stop the tears from falling as he felt himself fading away. The stone Keyblade shimmered with light as another of dark marble grew up beside it, their hilts crossed so their message could be seen by all. Kisses that felt like coals fell on his face, one on either eyelid and on every tear and the final one on his lips. The message of the stone Keyblades stayed with him, even as the warm earth closed over his head.

_Two Hearts, One Destiny_


End file.
